


wasted on you

by cursingcursive (queenradi)



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Possessive Shane, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 20:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14961713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenradi/pseuds/cursingcursive
Summary: there's a reason shane loves when ryan wears his clothes.





	wasted on you

**Author's Note:**

> title from "too good" by troye sivan.
> 
> i wrote this for fun. i do not actually think shane and ryan are in a relationship or something. for the love of god, NEVER show this to them or anyone who knows them. don't do that. 
> 
> work of fiction. keep it away from them.
> 
> that said, enjoy lol

The best part of dating Shane for real, Ryan thinks, is the part where he gets to wear Shane’s clothes. Like, all the time. Shane, it turns out, is sort of a hoarder when it comes to clothes; he could wear all new pieces of clothing every day for two weeks and not run out of stuff to wear. That means Ryan can steal whatever the fuck he wants out of Shane’s closet and it will go unnoticed. 

Well, not entirely unnoticed, because every time Shane sees Ryan in his clothes, his cheeks flush red and his eyes go dark, and Ryan feels a little bit like a mouse trapped under the gaze of a large, hungry house cat. It’s awesome. 

When they’ve been together for a little over six months, Ryan decides to go through his closet and take out everything he’s stolen so far. The final tally is nine shirts, two pairs of sweatpants, a jean jacket, four hoodies, two beanies, and a pair of wool socks. 

He takes a picture of all of it, spread out on his floor, and sends it to Shane. 

_ i think i have most of your wardrobe _

Shane texts back a few minutes later. 

_ holy shit babe _

_ i’ve been looking for that hoodie forever wtf _

_ can i have these back pleeeaaase _

Ryan was already planning on putting it all in a bag and going over to Shane’s with it, anyway, but even so, the thought of letting go of all that comfy clothing makes him sad.

Still, he drives over to Shane’s that night, even stops at the store to pick up some wine and tortilla chips, and when he walks in the door Shane acts as though his husband has returned from war, or something. 

He snatches the bag of clothes from Ryan’s hands and makes a big, dramatic fuss of putting them in the washing machine. 

“I do not smell that bad,” Ryan laughs, already working on opening the wine. 

“That’s what you think,” Shane shoots back. The washing machine kicks to life, and he returns to the living room. “I don’t want your ghostly stench ruining my clothes. I gotta keep it  _ out _ of my closet.” 

“You’re such a dick.” 

“Mmhm. I work hard.”

They pour the wine out into coffee mugs and curl up on the couch together to watch a documentary on space exploration, and almost right away Ryan is cold. He’s only wearing a tshirt and basketball shorts, and Shane keeps his home a frigid sixty six degrees. This is how Ryan ends up with so many goddamn hoodies. 

“I need a blanket,” he tells Shane, on the third mug of wine. 

“I’ll do you one better.” Shane gets up from the couch and disappears for a moment, then returns with one of his hoodies in his grip. It’s one he’s been wearing a lot lately, dark grey and baggy on him, and Ryan beams when he sees it. 

“I’ve had my eye on this one!” he yells, excited. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve noticed.” Shane smiles fondly and helps Ryan shimmy into the sweater. It’s cozy, soft, so worn in it’s like wearing a cloud. The sleeves fall way past Ryan’s hands. He tucks his chin down into the neck and inhales, filling his head with the scent of Shane; woody shampoo, aftershave, deodorant, and vanilla coffee. It makes his head spin and his heart warm like alcohol never could. 

“You look like a little gremlin,” Shane tells him. He’s back on the couch, a little spread out, gangly limbs everywhere, and watching Ryan with a grin and a sparkle in his eyes. 

“A cute gremlin,” Ryan rebukes. “You made me this way. I would have been fine with a blanket, but you— you  _ coerced  _ me into this hoodie. Like you  _ wanted _ me to wear it.” 

Something shifts on Shane’s face. 

Ryan’s heart rockets up into his throat and down into his stomach at the same time. “Uh oh,” he teases. 

“Mm.” Shane shakes his head. “Shut up, Bergara.” He turns away and then raises the volume on the TV. 

“We’re coming back to this,” Ryan promises. He smirks and settles back into the couch. “You’re not getting out of it that easy.” 

 

+

 

Ryan figures it out a week later. They’re filming a Post-Mortem, and while getting mic’d up he has to take off the hoodie he’s wearing— the hoodie that is, of course, Shane’s. He hands it to TJ without really thinking, knowing it’ll just get draped over a chair somewhere out of the way, but while the wire is being adjusted he hears TJ say, “Oh shit, this one’s Madej’s.” 

Ryan’s ears burn. “What?” 

TJ has a shit-eating grin on his face. He holds the hoodie up by the sleeves. “You’re wearing his clothes, now?” 

“Oh, shut the hell up,” Ryan laughs. Across the tiny room, Shane chimes in with, “He loves me  _ so much  _ that he just has to have part of me with him, all the time.” Ryan’s going to kill him. 

“That’s really gay,” TJ laughs. He drapes the hoodie over an unused tripod, like Ryan wanted him to do years ago when he didn’t think this conversation would be happening, and then he says, “Shane, this smells like that cologne Sara got you for your birthday. You bathe in that shit, or just share it with Ryan?” 

Suspiciously, Shane catches Ryan’s eye to respond with, “I like the smell. Sue me.” 

Over the course of filming, Ryan realizes that Shane wears the cologne enough that people recognize him for it, know the scent as  _ him _ , because it’s a unique scent in the office. Which means that if the hoodie Ryan is “borrowing” from him smells like his cologne, Ryan smells like Shane. 

And everyone knows it. 

They’re sitting on Shane’s couch after work that night when Ryan calls him out on it. 

“So,” he says, discreetly climbing onto Shane’s lap. 

“But Ryan,” Shane fake-protests. “We’re missing the episode of  _ Parks and Recreation _ we’ve both seen four hundred times!” 

“I’m sure the replay button will still work when I’m done.” Ryan loops his arms around Shane’s neck and smiles down at him. “I have a question.” He makes sure to say it less like  _ Can I ask you?  _ and more like  _ I’m just fucking with you, I’m gonna tell you something we both know is true and it might embarrass you but that is not the point _ . 

Shane looks very interested. 

“Do you let me wear your clothes so that I smell like you and people know that we’re together?” Ryan tilts his head to the side like he doesn’t know the answer. 

“Uh.” Shane blinks up at him. His face goes red, starting at his cheeks and blooming out. “If I say yes, are you going to think it’s weird?” 

“Am I going to think it’s weird that you apparently have a thing for like, scent marking me, and making sure people know I’m taken, by  _ you _ in particular?” 

The blush deepens, but Shane doesn’t look away. 

Ryan ducks his head down and says, in a hushed voice, “I think it’s pretty hot, actually.” 

They’re making out almost right away. Shane gets his hands up under the hoodie, against Ryan’s skin, and the touch lights a fire deep in Ryan’s belly. He never thought, before now, that having such a possessive partner would be a turn-on, but. Walking around in Shane’s clothes, smelling like Shane, went to his head. Even now, he’s dazed, caught up in the rough grip Shane’s got on his hips, the frantic kissing, the way Shane just— 

Tips him over, pushes him down on the couch and covers his body entirely. Ryan clings to Shane’s neck, opens his mouth for Shane’s tongue, wraps his legs around Shane’s waist. He’s already unbearably warm under the hoodie, but Shane so obviously loves that’s he’s still wearing it, so it stays. 

“I didn’t realize—” Ryan gasps. 

Shane bites his neck, hard, and he moans. 

“I just,” Shane pants. He rolls his hips against Ryan’s. “I just want them to know, you know?” 

Ryan laughs breathlessly. “Yeah. I know.” 

It doesn’t take long for them to get naked, except for the damn sweatshirt, and Ryan gets lost in the sensation of Shane kissing down his belly, over this thighs, all the way to where his dick rests between his legs, hard and waiting. 

“Gonna make you come,” Shane mumbles. 

“That a promise?” Ryan teases. 

The look he gets is smoldering. Shane grips one of Ryan’s wrists, hard, and pulls his hand down flat against the cushions. He does the same with Ryan’s other hand, until Ryan is essentially spread out on the couch for him, not touching Shane anywhere, gasping and shaking and  _ waiting _ . 

“Don’t touch,” Shane says. Demands. 

Ryan bites down a whimper. Arousal shoots through him. 

Maybe, he thinks, the possessiveness goes a little… deeper. 

Shane goes excruciatingly slow, his big hands pinning Ryan’s hip to the couch, his tongue doing clever, annoying things, slowing everything down so much Ryan has to ball up one of his sleeves and bite down on the fabric to muffle his moans. 

When the torturous pace has brought Ryan up to and then down from the edge numerous times, Shane slides his way back up to Ryan’s mouth, kisses his jaw and cheek and lips, grabs one thigh and slots their hips together so their dicks drag and the friction makes them both groan. 

“Thought you were gonna,” Ryan whines, hands still fisted at his side, still not touching, “Gonna make me come?” 

Shane kisses him on the mouth, gentle. “I am. I didn’t say how, though.” 

_ Oh, holy fucking fuck. _

Ryan’s spine liquefies. 

“You can touch, baby.” 

The permission has an instant effect on Ryan; his hands shoot up to Shane’s neck, fingers dig into his hair, yank him down into a messy and desperate kiss. Ryan grinds their hips together, chases the friction and whines when pleasure burns through his belly. 

They don’t have lube in the living room, because Shane is civilized, but Ryan isn’t about to let him get up to fetch some, so they just have to settle for grinding and whatever hand stuff that can be done without putting more than a few inches between their bodies. Shane props himself up on one elbow, reaches his other hand down and grabs Ryan’s thigh in a rough grip. 

“Look at me, baby,” he says, voice rough and low. 

Ryan opens his eyes and moans. Shane’s eyes are dark and heavy-lidded, and he’s smirking like Ryan’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. The hoodie’s bunched up between them, so their stomachs brush together on every roll of their hips, but Shane’s scent surrounds Ryan. He can feel his heartbeat everywhere. 

When Ryan tries to pull Shane down into a kiss, Shane makes a noise low in his throat that sounds suspiciously like a growl, and suddenly— 

Suddenly both of Ryan’s hands are pinned above his head, Shane’s weight rendering him immobile, and Shane grinds their hips together hard and filthy. Ryan cries out and arches into it, flexes his fingers in Shane’s grip. He could break free easily, if he wanted to, but. He doesn’t. 

They come quickly, after that. Shane kisses him out of it, and they use the hoodie to clean up. Ryan giggles when Shane kisses his bare chest, giggles again when Shane makes a face at the mess on their stomachs. 

“I hope you realize,” Ryan tells him, “That I’m never going to stop stealing your clothes, now.” 

Shane raises one eyebrow and smirks down at him. “That’s supposed to be a bad thing, Bergara?” 


End file.
